


With My Last Breath

by vaderina



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Character Death, Get Together, Ghost!Theseus, Hint - he has to die to become a ghost, M/M, Matchmaker Theseus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 07:59:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14744969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaderina/pseuds/vaderina
Summary: The only problem with dying for Newt Scamander is that you can’t then protect him any more from future troubles.





	With My Last Breath

The issue with dying for someone is that you could only do it once and then the person was left to fend for themselves in the face of the rest of their stupidity. Theseus realised this around the time he was staring down at his dismembered body with a pout. That had hurt. The dragon Newt had been corralling towards the pen had been spooked by another handler who hadn’t been paying enough attention. As a result the dragon had reared up and lashed out, sadly Newt had been the nearest so was destined to take the brunt of it. Theseus had acted out of instinct to protect his little brother, there wasn’t time to apparate them to safety so he’d done the only thing he could. He got between Newt and the dragon, shoved Newt to the ground and let obsidian claws rip through him. There was a brief moment of cold pain which faded into a dull throb that trickled away as his blood soaked into the ground. Now he was forced to float just off the ground for a front row viewing of Newt – safe for now – sobbing over his dead body.

That was how things had started. There was no blinding white light that called to Theseus, no screaming pit opened up under his feet to suck him in. Nobody could see him, nobody could hear him but it seemed that he was well and truly stuck in the realm of the living until whatever was tethering him there was resolved.

“No! Newt get back here!” Theseus shouted as he ran after Newt. The idiot boy had taken it upon himself to singlehandedly work with the dragons and teach the other handlers how to appropriately handle them. Just because his grief had stopped his world didn’t mean the war was also put on hold. So Theseus got to watch as Newt bullheadedly clashed with the camp’s dragon experts and forged his own methods. Newt called the others cruel, short sighted and in a moment of brilliance the descendants of domesticated mountain trolls who are working their way back up the evolutionary tree judging by their collective IQ being worse than that of a streeler with dementia. By the time Theseus had picked himself up from the floor and wiped ghostly tears from his cheeks the group and Newt had headed into the dragon pasture, determined to prove whose methods were more effective. Theseus legged it after them, the sour mood of everyone set the dragons on edge. For reasons beyond his ability to fathom Newt had ended up facing off against one of the surliest, meanest dragons. The panic that had been curled in Theseus’ gut unfurls its wings and quite literally propels him. He’d seen the dragon take a breath, knew that the next thing coming was a stream of fire that Newt had no hope of evading. So Theseus did the only thing he could. His anxiety hurled him through the air and he landed with a bump on the dragon’s snout. Uncaring of dragon bogeys or anything like that, with noble simplicity Theseus jammed a fist up each nostril in the hopes of plugging the flames. Behind him Newt’s calm tone addressed the dragon. Said dragon stared slightly cross eyed at the ghost that was wedged into her snout. The rumble of fire died out in her throat and was quickly replaced by a gigantic sneeze. It sent Theseus hurtling back onto the ground and a tremendous volume of dragon snot followed him. That landed on Newt who had the gall to laugh in delight. Anger forgotten, the dragon inspected the sticky man with newfound curiosity.

It went on like for after the war too. Theseus trailed after Newt and tried to help him survive all the ridiculously perilous trips he decided to embark on. There was a time that Theseus had to re-enact a haunting in a village pub just to convince the locals that it wasn’t Newt practicing witchcraft in their sleepy corner of the world. In Africa Theseus had placed himself between a nundu and Newt.

“If you so much as hurt him I swear I will take my ghostly presence and sit it in your intestines until you feel so bloated and flatulent you want to curl up and fart but I promise you I won’t be coming out of there any time soon.” So perhaps that wasn’t his best threat but nobody was around to witness his humiliation and failure. Except maybe the nundu whose eyes flickered between Newt and where he stood. Theseus had experimented in Newt’s case while his brother slept. The creatures couldn’t hear him, couldn’t see him. But if he kicked up enough fuss then on some level they registered his presence which was usually enough to break whatever attack they’d had planned for Newt. The few times a creature had gone sailing through Theseus had been deeply unpleasant, almost like the warm shiver of sandpaper in rasping against a grazed knee. It made Theseus avoid it as much as possible but at times there were no options. Like their mad chase after a demiguise which had been caught in a trap that had not been secured to the ground. For a brief moment Theseus had forgotten he was an incorporeal entity and stood in the path of the creature, calling to Newt that he’s got the pesky little bugger. The annoyed humiliation of being run through was only soured more when the demiguise looked over its shoulder with an almost knowing look. Even though it lived in Newt’s case now, Theseus still gave it a wide berth.

America was a clusterfuck of epic proportions. Something felt wrong, the air was tainted with a sickly weight that crushed Theseus. Against his better judgement while Newt was admiring the Second Salemers he popped the latch on the case. Theseus wasn’t sure why he had done it, it was a bit of a game he played without Newt knowing. The number of times the poor guy had pored over the latch mechanism trying to find the fault was astounding. It was one of the few physical changes Theseus could bring about, probably fuelled by his mischievous desire to annoy his little brother.

By the time Newt was sentenced to death Theseus had a good idea what was going on. He floated helplessly after his brother as he was escorted to the execution chambers. His distress only grew as he watched Pickett unpick the locks and Newt brawl his way out of the room. Once he was safe Theseus knew what he had to do.

He searched all of New York for the real Percival Graves. There was no reason why, he and Newt had seen countless instances of horror in their travels and Theseus had never strayed from his brother’s side. But for the first time he felt compelled to do something. The sewage tunnels were dark, disgustingly slimy and altogether unpleasant. However Theseus felt a pull and sure enough after a day’s wandering he found his prize. Graves was chained to the wall, wrists bruised and raw, clothes sodden. The cruelty of Grindelwald knew no bounds as Graves was tied at a level so when the water levels rose he had to tread water as high up as his bound wrists allowed in order to survive.

There was nothing Theseus could do for the man in his state however he was sure somehow he could entice Newt down to the rescue. Frank soared above the clouds as Theseus emerged from the sewage system. The air smelt cleaners even before the rain began to fall. It was quick work to unlatch the case, the demiguise was already waiting with an occamy in its paw. The two creatures disappeared into the sewer system to shouts from aurors and Newt’s cursing. It would have been funny to watch if Theseus wasn’t worried that his plan was going to backfire. Cautiously he followed them all back through the sewers but so far they were reliably heading for Graves.

The shouting and uproar at their discovery made Theseus smile grimly. His job felt half done. Graves was saved, New York was saved. Whatever else he had left to do, he didn’t think it was going to take long. The feeling had him sagging against the brick wall before his concentration slipped and he tumbled through it. By the time he popped back out Graves was being eased onto a stretcher while Newt chastised his runaway demiguise.

They didn’t leave New York. Instead Newt took the offered position of consultant if only to keep an eye on Graves and his recovery. It seemed that while Theseus had been otherwise occupied (he’d heard of a ghost bar downtown that served high proof alcohol to those in his situation), Newt had taken a shine to the recovering director. Intrigued by what his little brother saw, Theseus tagged along to his next hospital visit. A bag of pastries was hidden in Newt’s coat and the wide grin on Percival’s only mildly bruised face was priceless. They shared the forbidden snack while chatting in hushed tones. Every now and then Percival would glance up to where Theseus was perched on a cabinet but his eyes never lingered.

“Do you have any family?” he asked. Newt’s face fell, he haltingly spoke of the death of their parents and then how his brother had protected him from a dragon during the war. They talked softly about the war, their roles. At the end of his visiting hour Percival raised his glass of water towards Newt.

“For big brothers who always look out for you,” he said and took a drink. Newt smiled sadly and returned home. It had been a long time since Newt had shed a tear for Theseus but talking to Percival had seemingly set him off. The soft hiccoughs sounded so miserable, Theseus did the only thing he could think of. Slowly he settled on the bed behind Newt and curled around him. Even though his brother couldn’t feel it, Theseus held him through his misery.

A bit of research into Percival was needed. So while Newt was visiting him in hospital Theseus decided to investigate. He didn’t so much as break into the archives, it was more that he floated through the walls and between the wards. Most of it was stuff he already knew, descendent of Gondolphus Graves, powerful, skilled in wandless magic. What was new was the knowledge that Graves was a Seer. That probably explained how, while he couldn’t see Theseus, he was probably still more attuned to his presence than most.

Time came when Percival was discharged from hospital. He returned to work and interestingly enough he paid Newt a visit during his lunch break. It took all of Theseus’ scheming and giggly energy to spill Percival’s glass of water all over Newt’s white shirt. The desired outcomes all came true. Newt blushed, flustered as his shirt stuck to his chest, Percival stared dry mouthed at the sight before offering to help Newt freshen up.

Three days later Theseus drifted into the MACUSA kitchenette to see Newt boxing Percival in against the counter, heedless of the fact anybody could walk by. They had agreed to a dinner date that evening but had decided to forgo convention and were busy making out then and there to celebrate even agreeing to a date.

Theseus had taken to trailing after Percival when Newt was safe. It was mostly boring meetings, health checks and quiet report reading. There were more interesting moments though. For example when Percival rounded of Picquery for her resistance to changing the beasts laws, it was a sight to behold. The proud director snarling about Picquery’s fear of change, her obsession with popularity clouding her judgement. That meeting was explosive and fiery but in the end Percival walked out with a promise of a reform. Theseus nodded in approval. That evening he had to take a long walk through New York because as much as he wanted to see his brother happy, he really didn’t want to hear what he and Percival got up to in their house. It wasn’t even the bedroom, the mood had struck while making dinner and Theseus swore never to touch anything in there ever again – food or otherwise.

The end was a bit of an anti-climax all things considered. Newt was busy at his desk, Percival leaning over and grinning as he was no doubt saying all manner of lewd things. That had been a bit of a surprise, Percival had the filthiest mouth Theseus had ever heard and in the worst places. Who in their right mind would talk about different ways to suck cock while their subordinates were barely out of hearing range? Behind them one of the aurors was wrangling a criminal they’d just brought in. One slip up and the criminal had stolen their wand and was pointing it at Newt, a curse dripping from their lips. Theseus threw himself in the way of the curse out of habit. He knew it wouldn’t have done much good but the principle of it was still important. The spell never hit him. Picking his way up from the floor Theseus was blinded for a moment by a bright light. He glanced behind his back, Percival had his arm around Newt, wand in hand and the shield slowly melted away. His brother was safe, he had a new guardian. Percival nodded at him, eyes clear and mouthed a small “thank you”. Theseus sent him a small smile and turned to walk into the light.

**Author's Note:**

> Working away on prompts over at tumblr - @ladyoftheshrimp


End file.
